Never trust a Sagittarius.
Like every story, it is real in its own rights. And when it sounds fabricated or incoherent or insane - life writes stories more crazy than any author can create. Gratitude for the inspiration goes to some of my closest friends.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
When Gina Schmied woke up the cedar panels on her sloped bedroom wall were undulating like ribbons of a wheat field in the breeze. She closed her eyes.
My head hurts.
A sudden image flashed through her tired mind: It was an axe blow to my head. That damn branch was in the way. Wait a minute - was it really a branch?
Gina wasn’t sure about anything at the moment. She opened her eyes again. The wall panels had calmed down. Dust motes were dancing in a ray of sunlight streaming into Gina’s bedroom like tiny moths. The refracted light from her many crystals painted the bed sheets with rainbow colored dots and stripes. Gina disliked curtains, so the sun and the moon had a chance to look in through the small window.
She touched her head gingerly and felt a long welt of stitches from forehead to crown. Not seeing any blood on her fingers, Gina turned to the other side of the double futon bed – empty. No sign of anyone having slept there.
What?
Four months ago Gina had returned to Canada from Switzerland, where she was born five decades earlier. KLM business class – oh yes, a sumptuous and rare luxury she had not indulged in since she left the old country 25 years ago. Thomas was smiling his blue-eyed smile beside her.
Thomas. Athletic, six feet tall, almost ten years her senior and as fit as a much younger man. A charming Sagittarius, he was always on the move, traveling by plane, train and bicycle.
Gina watched him from the corner of her eyes. Man, he’s such an attractive and lovable guy, she mused. Intelligent, witty, and a gentleman.
Gina conveniently forgot a few things she knew about Thomas from the time when they were college sweethearts 30 years ago. She shook her salt and pepper hair, still falling thick and healthy to her shoulders, and reached for his carefully manicured hand.
Thomas Mäder had just retired from his work as a graphic artist. He and Gina had grown up in the same Swiss city, barely three blocks from each other. He liked Gina – for her sparkle, her love of wild places, and her deep chestnut brown eyes, which smiled at him right now. He knew, though, that he was on his own quest, and nobody could accompany him.
YVR showed itself rich with sculptures, waterfalls and garden cafés – as always since the 2010 Olympics. Through the glass front Gina saw blue skies and blooming fuchsia and purple rhododendrons. She could almost smell summer.
Air North flew them smoothly over the Coastal Mountains, still covered in snow, to the North. Whitehorse, the capital of the Yukon Territory, awaited them with a chilly breeze.
“How long have you lived here, Gina?” Thomas wondered while he zippered his black Mammut jacket with a shiver.
“Ten years.” Gina loved the North as fiercely as it treated its inhabitants.
It was early June and summer had just begun to paint leaves on aspen and willow. The ocher of the marsh grass had finally erupted into green shoots and the blue waves of the lake were dotted with mallards, green-winged teals and buffleheads.
Home.
Thomas was also a passionate photographer. The raw beauty of the Yukon was like candy for him. And like all candy, after a while it’s enough. While Gina was working her part-time teaching job at a newly emerged Waldorf school, Thomas walked everywhere and snapped thousands of photos.
“We could produce photo books and calendars and cards together, Thomas.” Gina suggested one sunlit evening, sitting on the neighbor’s dock by the sparkling river.
“Ya, maybe.” Although an eloquent speaker, Thomas was not skilled at sharing his thoughts or feelings.
In a matter of a few weeks, a nagging little red light came on in a far corner of Gina’s happiness.
It was blinking distantly during their boat rides over the silky waters of the lake, wind in their hair and raucously laughing. Or when swimming naked in the frigid waters and splashing each other like little kids. Or while hiking along the clay cliffs, watching the bald eagles take flight. And even while making love.
Time to talk to Sonia, Gina thought. Sonia Kron was Gina’s best friend, considerably younger, wise and sweet.
Gina and Sonia met for dinner at Nina Lula’s on 4th Avenue. A funky, colorful little restaurant in the center of the city with a Caribbean touch, from the fabulous menu to the artwork on the walls.
Sonia was also from Switzerland, which made it easy for the two women to communicate in Schwyzerdütsch.
“How bizarre, really, that we leave our home country only to find people somewhere else on this planet with whom we can reminisce about the old world.”
Gina looked at Sonia, who was dressed in terra cotta colors and nodded with a mouthful of spicy dhal.
“Hmm, Gina, you’re right, it’s odd. Somehow we humans are imprinted by the land and culture we come from. The question is: why are we moving away from <home>? - But I’m changing subject now, let’s talk about Sagittarius men.” Sonia’s wistful smile glittered across the table. She moved her green bowl and the orange and yellow napkin to the side and leaned forward.
”As far as I remember from an astrology course I took, Sagittarius men are vagabonds and eternal travelers. Knowledge is important to them as it drives their attitude to life. And because they always want to know more, Sagittarian men have a thirst for everything that is new and unknown. So, they need to continue exploring to feel satisfied.”
Sonia, moving a strand of her long, straight, black hair out of her face, looked question marks at Gina.
Gina: “So? What does that mean, really?”
“It means that’s who he is. He needs to travel, explore, and go on photo safaris. That’s all. No need for red warning lights. Thomas might just be a bit restless; he’s been here for several weeks now. Talk to him.”
Gina knew this wasn’t far from what she was feeling was going on. No big deal after all. She laughed out loud at her own insecurities.
Thomas had not been idle while Gina and Sonia had their dinner and women’s chat. He sat in Starbucks exploring South America on his MacBook. So much to experience: Machu Picchu in Peru, Bariloche in Argentina, Rio de Janeiro in Brazil… And how about Belize, Guatemala and Costa Rica?
How can people just sit around at home till they’re blue in the face and lose their shine to life? Thomas shook his curly grey hair – not happening to him.
He just had to figure out how to tell Gina. She was a great friend and he liked her spunk and willingness to live alone halfway out in the wilderness. That’s what it would be for her again in a short while: living alone.
Getting out of bed wasn’t so easy that October morning. Gina turned to the right, pushed herself up with one arm and then sat up. She glanced at the little cast iron Ganesha on her night table with his mild and gentle look: the Hindu god with an elephant head revered as the remover of obstacles.
OK, Ganesha, I need some obstacle removing in my head, she thought. Where was Thomas? What happened?
Some of it became clear to Gina when she shuffled to the kitchen in her white-dotted red pajamas. Although she had a woodstove in her cabin, she was not going to fire it up. The oil monitor had to do. Gina boiled tea water and sat down at the little table by the window. It looked wintery outside. Thousands of glittering, frosty crystals on each single branch of spruce, birch and aspen.
Swarovski would be jealous, she thought with a smirk that ended in a shooting pain in her head.
She held her head for a moment in both hands. Pictures floated up in her mind: She was in full swing to split a big, stubborn log – and suddenly her head was in roaring pain. She thought she remembered Thomas standing there with a grin on his face, but that wasn’t really clear.
Gina had stumbled into Thomas’ arms, who guided her to the couch inside the cabin and called 911. Blood everywhere. So much pain in her head. Thomas and Bruce McDonnell, an older Scotsman and her neighbor, kept her silent company until Emergency Medical Services arrived. It felt like hours to Gina; it was only 30 minutes.
Stitches, concussion, pain. The nurses were nice and efficient at Emergency, but not gentle. They let her go after four hours. Bruce had waited for her and drove her home in his rattling old Toyota. He was a good friend indeed.
Bruce put Gina to bed that evening, brought her pea soup and peppermint tea. She fell asleep before he had left.
And now she had made her own tea. Where was Thomas? It made no sense.
Gina looked around and saw the piece of paper pinned to her heavy wooden front door. She got up, refusing to focus on the waving floor planks. Look straight ahead, she thought. She grabbed the paper and sat back down. Before she read the note, she put on Chopin’s Nocturnes played by Maurizio Pollini as a soul-comfort measure.
“Dearest Gina, I love you very much. Still, I’m going on another photo safari. I really want to finally produce a book and a presentation about some countries in South America. I know, bad timing.
I wish you speedy recovery. Take good care of yourself. And remember:
Never trust a Sagittarius.
Love, Thomas”
In the background, Pollini gently kept playing Chopin.
Christmas. Gina and Maja, her daughter, shared some traditional Wiehnachts-Guetzli at Maja’s old and stylish apartment in Basel. Only the soft glow of candles in various holders illuminated the living room. “It feels like we’re somewhere in the East – except for the cookies”. Gina smiled at her daughter, who was also her dearest friend.
“Most of the furniture, carpets and glassware are from Israel and India, mom.” Maja Hofer was impatiently waiting for the story her mother promised to tell. “Is your head pain-free now?”
Gina nodded. “No more pain in the head. And a lesson learned.” She told Maja the whole story. Accompanied by several glasses of Domaine Pierre André’s Châteauneuf-du-Pape AC 2010 – an unusually rich and superb wine. A great support for story telling.
After the accident and having found Thomas’ note, Gina spoke with her supervisor at the little Waldorf School in Whitehorse. Susan Monroe had the heart of a lion and the sensibility of most anthroposophically trained people. She understood Gina and put her on a three-month leave.
“I physically recovered in three weeks,” Gina recalled. “Of course, I had help from my friends, Sonia and Bruce, and several other friendly neighbors. That’s when you know who your friends are!”
As always, in a crisis situation, Gina had felt like going home. Hmm, she thought, home apparently is still Basel. She reflected on her urge for several more weeks, and then decided to book a flight to Switzerland. Her daughter and her 90-year old mother lived there. Christmas would be a good time for a visit.
Gina had to think of her and Sonia’s conversation at Nina Lula’s and smiled at their like minds. After the accident, Sonia visited Gina several times, bringing Apfelstrudel and sharing thoughts. One sentence stuck in Gina’s mind: “I thought about Thomas a bit more and this really has nothing to do with a Zodiac sign: Men like Thomas only love themselves. They can be very affectionate and charming - but at the moment of truth the only thing they are interested in is their own hide.”
Maja, curly chestnut hair bouncing and the lovely small nose twitching in her soft face, interrupted her mother’s musings: “And, did you contact Thomas?”
“I tried. By phone and email. Nothing. It’s ten weeks later now. Still nothing.”
Maja, sitting cross-legged on the low couch, had a sip from the beautifully hand-blown purple glass. “What do you think was going on – with Thomas and with you?”
“Here comes my lesson, sweetie,” Gina replied. “I thought I was ready for a partner. You know, with the wood and work and life – just everything. Thomas had been so generous, attentive and kind to me. We had history together. Great intellectual match. A Sagittarius, mind you, an explorer. And I knew he was not stable. I knew it 30 years ago and I knew it four months ago. And I had to hit myself over the head to admit it.”
Maja laughed out loud. “What a way to wake up, mom!”
Gina smiled. “Yes, no kidding. So, I realized – once more in my life – that my own strength dwells within me. And I found out that I don’t know much about what is going on in anyone else’s mind and heart.”
“A toast to that, mom, and Merry Christmas!”
Ganesha, the remover of obstacles had done his work.
- - Never Trust a Sagittarius - Short Story - available from Blurb https://www.blurb.ca
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
When Gina Schmied woke up the cedar panels on her sloped bedroom wall were undulating like ribbons of a wheat field in the breeze. She closed her eyes.
My head hurts.
A sudden image flashed through her tired mind: It was an axe blow to my head. That damn branch was in the way. Wait a minute - was it really a branch?
Gina wasn’t sure about anything at the moment. She opened her eyes again. The wall panels had calmed down. Dust motes were dancing in a ray of sunlight streaming into Gina’s bedroom like tiny moths. The refracted light from her many crystals painted the bed sheets with rainbow colored dots and stripes. Gina disliked curtains, so the sun and the moon had a chance to look in through the small window.
She touched her head gingerly and felt a long welt of stitches from forehead to crown. Not seeing any blood on her fingers, Gina turned to the other side of the double futon bed – empty. No sign of anyone having slept there.
What?
Four months ago Gina had returned to Canada from Switzerland, where she was born five decades earlier. KLM business class – oh yes, a sumptuous and rare luxury she had not indulged in since she left the old country 25 years ago. Thomas was smiling his blue-eyed smile beside her.
Thomas. Athletic, six feet tall, almost ten years her senior and as fit as a much younger man. A charming Sagittarius, he was always on the move, traveling by plane, train and bicycle.
Gina watched him from the corner of her eyes. Man, he’s such an attractive and lovable guy, she mused. Intelligent, witty, and a gentleman.
Gina conveniently forgot a few things she knew about Thomas from the time when they were college sweethearts 30 years ago. She shook her salt and pepper hair, still falling thick and healthy to her shoulders, and reached for his carefully manicured hand.
Thomas Mäder had just retired from his work as a graphic artist. He and Gina had grown up in the same Swiss city, barely three blocks from each other. He liked Gina – for her sparkle, her love of wild places, and her deep chestnut brown eyes, which smiled at him right now. He knew, though, that he was on his own quest, and nobody could accompany him.
YVR showed itself rich with sculptures, waterfalls and garden cafés – as always since the 2010 Olympics. Through the glass front Gina saw blue skies and blooming fuchsia and purple rhododendrons. She could almost smell summer.
Air North flew them smoothly over the Coastal Mountains, still covered in snow, to the North. Whitehorse, the capital of the Yukon Territory, awaited them with a chilly breeze.
“How long have you lived here, Gina?” Thomas wondered while he zippered his black Mammut jacket with a shiver.
“Ten years.” Gina loved the North as fiercely as it treated its inhabitants.
It was early June and summer had just begun to paint leaves on aspen and willow. The ocher of the marsh grass had finally erupted into green shoots and the blue waves of the lake were dotted with mallards, green-winged teals and buffleheads.
Home.
Thomas was also a passionate photographer. The raw beauty of the Yukon was like candy for him. And like all candy, after a while it’s enough. While Gina was working her part-time teaching job at a newly emerged Waldorf school, Thomas walked everywhere and snapped thousands of photos.
“We could produce photo books and calendars and cards together, Thomas.” Gina suggested one sunlit evening, sitting on the neighbor’s dock by the sparkling river.
“Ya, maybe.” Although an eloquent speaker, Thomas was not skilled at sharing his thoughts or feelings.
In a matter of a few weeks, a nagging little red light came on in a far corner of Gina’s happiness.
It was blinking distantly during their boat rides over the silky waters of the lake, wind in their hair and raucously laughing. Or when swimming naked in the frigid waters and splashing each other like little kids. Or while hiking along the clay cliffs, watching the bald eagles take flight. And even while making love.
Time to talk to Sonia, Gina thought. Sonia Kron was Gina’s best friend, considerably younger, wise and sweet.
Gina and Sonia met for dinner at Nina Lula’s on 4th Avenue. A funky, colorful little restaurant in the center of the city with a Caribbean touch, from the fabulous menu to the artwork on the walls.
Sonia was also from Switzerland, which made it easy for the two women to communicate in Schwyzerdütsch.
“How bizarre, really, that we leave our home country only to find people somewhere else on this planet with whom we can reminisce about the old world.”
Gina looked at Sonia, who was dressed in terra cotta colors and nodded with a mouthful of spicy dhal.
“Hmm, Gina, you’re right, it’s odd. Somehow we humans are imprinted by the land and culture we come from. The question is: why are we moving away from <home>? - But I’m changing subject now, let’s talk about Sagittarius men.” Sonia’s wistful smile glittered across the table. She moved her green bowl and the orange and yellow napkin to the side and leaned forward.
”As far as I remember from an astrology course I took, Sagittarius men are vagabonds and eternal travelers. Knowledge is important to them as it drives their attitude to life. And because they always want to know more, Sagittarian men have a thirst for everything that is new and unknown. So, they need to continue exploring to feel satisfied.”
Sonia, moving a strand of her long, straight, black hair out of her face, looked question marks at Gina.
Gina: “So? What does that mean, really?”
“It means that’s who he is. He needs to travel, explore, and go on photo safaris. That’s all. No need for red warning lights. Thomas might just be a bit restless; he’s been here for several weeks now. Talk to him.”
Gina knew this wasn’t far from what she was feeling was going on. No big deal after all. She laughed out loud at her own insecurities.
Thomas had not been idle while Gina and Sonia had their dinner and women’s chat. He sat in Starbucks exploring South America on his MacBook. So much to experience: Machu Picchu in Peru, Bariloche in Argentina, Rio de Janeiro in Brazil… And how about Belize, Guatemala and Costa Rica?
How can people just sit around at home till they’re blue in the face and lose their shine to life? Thomas shook his curly grey hair – not happening to him.
He just had to figure out how to tell Gina. She was a great friend and he liked her spunk and willingness to live alone halfway out in the wilderness. That’s what it would be for her again in a short while: living alone.
Getting out of bed wasn’t so easy that October morning. Gina turned to the right, pushed herself up with one arm and then sat up. She glanced at the little cast iron Ganesha on her night table with his mild and gentle look: the Hindu god with an elephant head revered as the remover of obstacles.
OK, Ganesha, I need some obstacle removing in my head, she thought. Where was Thomas? What happened?
Some of it became clear to Gina when she shuffled to the kitchen in her white-dotted red pajamas. Although she had a woodstove in her cabin, she was not going to fire it up. The oil monitor had to do. Gina boiled tea water and sat down at the little table by the window. It looked wintery outside. Thousands of glittering, frosty crystals on each single branch of spruce, birch and aspen.
Swarovski would be jealous, she thought with a smirk that ended in a shooting pain in her head.
She held her head for a moment in both hands. Pictures floated up in her mind: She was in full swing to split a big, stubborn log – and suddenly her head was in roaring pain. She thought she remembered Thomas standing there with a grin on his face, but that wasn’t really clear.
Gina had stumbled into Thomas’ arms, who guided her to the couch inside the cabin and called 911. Blood everywhere. So much pain in her head. Thomas and Bruce McDonnell, an older Scotsman and her neighbor, kept her silent company until Emergency Medical Services arrived. It felt like hours to Gina; it was only 30 minutes.
Stitches, concussion, pain. The nurses were nice and efficient at Emergency, but not gentle. They let her go after four hours. Bruce had waited for her and drove her home in his rattling old Toyota. He was a good friend indeed.
Bruce put Gina to bed that evening, brought her pea soup and peppermint tea. She fell asleep before he had left.
And now she had made her own tea. Where was Thomas? It made no sense.
Gina looked around and saw the piece of paper pinned to her heavy wooden front door. She got up, refusing to focus on the waving floor planks. Look straight ahead, she thought. She grabbed the paper and sat back down. Before she read the note, she put on Chopin’s Nocturnes played by Maurizio Pollini as a soul-comfort measure.
“Dearest Gina, I love you very much. Still, I’m going on another photo safari. I really want to finally produce a book and a presentation about some countries in South America. I know, bad timing.
I wish you speedy recovery. Take good care of yourself. And remember:
Never trust a Sagittarius.
Love, Thomas”
In the background, Pollini gently kept playing Chopin.
Christmas. Gina and Maja, her daughter, shared some traditional Wiehnachts-Guetzli at Maja’s old and stylish apartment in Basel. Only the soft glow of candles in various holders illuminated the living room. “It feels like we’re somewhere in the East – except for the cookies”. Gina smiled at her daughter, who was also her dearest friend.
“Most of the furniture, carpets and glassware are from Israel and India, mom.” Maja Hofer was impatiently waiting for the story her mother promised to tell. “Is your head pain-free now?”
Gina nodded. “No more pain in the head. And a lesson learned.” She told Maja the whole story. Accompanied by several glasses of Domaine Pierre André’s Châteauneuf-du-Pape AC 2010 – an unusually rich and superb wine. A great support for story telling.
After the accident and having found Thomas’ note, Gina spoke with her supervisor at the little Waldorf School in Whitehorse. Susan Monroe had the heart of a lion and the sensibility of most anthroposophically trained people. She understood Gina and put her on a three-month leave.
“I physically recovered in three weeks,” Gina recalled. “Of course, I had help from my friends, Sonia and Bruce, and several other friendly neighbors. That’s when you know who your friends are!”
As always, in a crisis situation, Gina had felt like going home. Hmm, she thought, home apparently is still Basel. She reflected on her urge for several more weeks, and then decided to book a flight to Switzerland. Her daughter and her 90-year old mother lived there. Christmas would be a good time for a visit.
Gina had to think of her and Sonia’s conversation at Nina Lula’s and smiled at their like minds. After the accident, Sonia visited Gina several times, bringing Apfelstrudel and sharing thoughts. One sentence stuck in Gina’s mind: “I thought about Thomas a bit more and this really has nothing to do with a Zodiac sign: Men like Thomas only love themselves. They can be very affectionate and charming - but at the moment of truth the only thing they are interested in is their own hide.”
Maja, curly chestnut hair bouncing and the lovely small nose twitching in her soft face, interrupted her mother’s musings: “And, did you contact Thomas?”
“I tried. By phone and email. Nothing. It’s ten weeks later now. Still nothing.”
Maja, sitting cross-legged on the low couch, had a sip from the beautifully hand-blown purple glass. “What do you think was going on – with Thomas and with you?”
“Here comes my lesson, sweetie,” Gina replied. “I thought I was ready for a partner. You know, with the wood and work and life – just everything. Thomas had been so generous, attentive and kind to me. We had history together. Great intellectual match. A Sagittarius, mind you, an explorer. And I knew he was not stable. I knew it 30 years ago and I knew it four months ago. And I had to hit myself over the head to admit it.”
Maja laughed out loud. “What a way to wake up, mom!”
Gina smiled. “Yes, no kidding. So, I realized – once more in my life – that my own strength dwells within me. And I found out that I don’t know much about what is going on in anyone else’s mind and heart.”
“A toast to that, mom, and Merry Christmas!”
Ganesha, the remover of obstacles had done his work.
- - Never Trust a Sagittarius - Short Story - available from Blurb https://www.blurb.ca